Every February, You'll Be My Valentine
by Aphistas
Summary: It's Valentine's Day.
1. Blaine

Every February, You'll Be My Valentine

Kurt looked so adorable when I asked him out to dinner tonight. His eyes – blue? gray? green? – lit up, and I wanted to jump up and sing my victory of landing a Valentine's date to the school (not that I did, because I don't want him to cancel on me because he realizes that I'm a complete dork)!

Why did tonight have to be so damn cold, though? I should have brought an extra jacket for tonight.

I should have checked the weather before I left. It was just so nice this morning, just the barest winter chill when I surprised Kurt at McKinley. The sky was so clear and blue then.

The sky kind of looks like Kurt's eyes right now. Clouds have started moving in, the gray (looks like a storm is heading this way; there'll probably be a thunder storm later) blending with the too blue sky as the sun sets. It's pretty. Like Kurt.

I really should have checked the weather before leaving. It's really cold tonight.

The first time I saw him, he had this deer-in-headlights look about him; he reminded me of a doe-eyed deer, just so innocent yet cautious. There was just something about him that I couldn't resist taking him on a "shortcut" to the senior commons (yeah, it actually was a longer pathway, but come on, he's cute and I'm a guy).

Dinner should be good; I think he likes French food, or did he only speak it? What if he thinks I'm being creepy, or too cheesy, by taking him to a French restaurant for our date? What if he thinks this is too soon? I just wanted this Valentine's to be romantic, to be perfect for him; he deserves it after everything he's been through this year.

I hope he doesn't get too pissed at me for ruining his shirt (I think it's Armani? Or was it the Alexander one?). I didn't think he'd mind me wearing it; I think he said the color brought out my eyes? Or maybe he said it went well with my skin tone? I don't know; it's one of the reasons I love Dalton – no worries about what to wear and whether or not it looks good. But Kurt was smiling (it's such an endearing smile; he could get me to do anything when he smiles at me likes that) when he had me try it, and about a million other things, on last week, so I figured he wouldn't mind me stealing it for tonight. Blood is really hard to get out though, even with dry cleaning.

Is it getting colder? I hope Kurt remembered to wear something warm tonight.

Where is he? Maybe he's waiting for me inside?

Wait, is that him? He's wearing the blue sweater, the one that makes him glow. Is he on the phone? Why?

He's looking at me; he's so beautiful. I could stare at him for hours without ever getting bored.

Wait, he looks upset; what's wrong, Kurt? It looks like he's saying something, but it's muffled; I can't hear it, can't hear his sweet voice.

No, don't cry Kurt; everything will be okay.

Don't cry, I hate seeing you cry.

Don't –


	2. Kurt

Companion Piece: Every February, You'll Be My Valentine (Take 2)

Kurt was at his locker, sharing the latest gossip with Mercedes and lamenting over their dreaded lack of plans for Valentine's Day when he say them. The trio. Blaine, flanked by Wes and David, strode to him.

"What are you three doing here?" Kurt said as he put his books in his locker, sharing a smirk with his best friend.

"What? Aren't you happy to see us?"

"Our spy doesn't love us anymore!"

"What have we ever done to deserve this?" David and Wes tackled each other to the floor in a hug, letting out loud, melodramatic sobs.

"Please ignore my so-called friends." Blaine smiled at Kurt, causing a matching grin to appear on Kurt's face. "I just had something to ask you."

"Yes, it is an important mission –" David stood, forgetting his woe.

"– that we have accepted for our brave leader," Wes finished.

"If you two are quite finished?" David and Wes simply smiled. "Anyway, I was wondering, if you weren't busy tonight that maybe you'd like, possibly, to have dinner with me?"

"I'd really like that." Kurt smiled wider as he fixed his hair.

Blaine's own smile grew wider. "That's… totally awesome."

"Yeah."

Wes and David looked at Mercedes, who was grinning even as she rolled her eyes at the pair of them, before looking at each other.

"Well, not to break up this very intellectual conversation you two seem to be sharing, I think we'd best be off." David draped an arm around Blaine's shoulders.

"You'll see each other plenty tonight." Wes said as he grabbed Blaine's elbow.

"See you, Kurt!"

"I hate you both," Kurt heard Blaine say as he was dragged out of McKinley.

"So, it now looks like you do have plans for Valentine's Day," Mercedes said as she wrapped her own arm around Kurt's.

"Yeah. Wait! What am I going to wear?"

* * *

A soft grey cotton long-sleeved Alexander McQueen shirt joined the pile of discarded clothes deemed unsuitable for the date by Kurt.

"And what was wrong with that one?" Mercedes asked as she sat on his bed watching him tear though his closet.

"It was too casual! It's a T-shirt, not exactly appropriate for a date on Valentine's Day." Kurt threw a lavender and a volcano colored Armani shirt into the pile without even bothering to try them on.

"Kurt, stop. You're going to put wrinkles in all your clothes if you getting throwing them on the ground."

"I don't care! None of them are acceptable!" This concerned Mercedes; since when did Kurt allow his clothes to be sacrificed by his own choice?

Mercedes rose from the bed and grabbed Kurt's shoulders, putting a stop to his frantic search for the perfect outfit. "Kurt, you're going to hate yourself when you get home tonight if you keep this up." Kurt opened his mouth, a ready retort resting on his lips, but Mercedes continued, "And don't even think about denying it, white boy. Now, what's your boy's favorite color?"

"Umm, red and gold I believe, the dork that he is. But, he said he liked seeing me in blue."

"Well, there you go." Mercedes let the diva go before going to the closet herself and grabbed the dark blue McQueen cardigan. "Wear this; it brings out your eyes."

"Blaine said the same thing." A grin tugged at Kurt's lips before meeting Mercedes gaze. "Thank you; what would I do without you?"

"Be late to your Valentine's Day date," Mercedes replied with a pointed glance at the clock.

"Shit!"

* * *

Kurt pulled his Navigator into the parking lot for the French Bistro and checked his dashboard's clock, 7:10 – ten minutes later than he agreed to meet with Blaine. He parked next to a green BMW – Blaine's car. He sighed as he got out of the car before checking his hair in the side-door mirror, smoothing a loose strand of hair before walking passed an alley and into the Bistro.

"Reservation for two under Blaine Walsh," Kurt said as he stepped up to the hostess stand.

The hostess, a frail young college student, checked her list before saying, "Right this way, sir." He followed her around the corner to a small intimate booth. The dim lighting and dark wood finishing on the table reminded him of every romance movie he sat through with Mercedes and Tina. The booth was also empty.

"Excuse me; has anyone else arrived?"

"You're the first; cutting it a little late for your reservation," the hostess replied with a small brittle smile. "Your waiter will be with you shortly," and with that being said, she left Kurt alone at the booth.

Kurt sat down; the waiter – Jeff, blonde hair, almost eye-candy except for the pimple – came, left, and returned with a glass of diet coke. And Kurt waited.

He drained his glass; Jeff refilled it. He sent a text to Blaine: _Hey, where are you?_

He checked his watch, 7:17. He checked his phone; no answer. He sent another text: _You better have a good reason for being nearly 20 mins late._

He nibbled at the rolls. 7:21. He finished another glass of diet coke. He looked at his watch again, 7:30. Jeff came over with the pitcher.

"No. I'm done waiting. Just give me the check." Kurt paid for his drinks and left, a frown formed from his clenched jaw on his smooth face.

He left the bistro, head held high, and went to the parking lot ready to leave after being stood up.

The green BMW was still next to his Navigator. He checked the license plate – TLYAWSM. It was Blaine's car.

Kurt took out his phone and pulled up Blaine's number and hit dial. It rang. And rang. And rang. It went to voicemail. He ended the call. He redialed. Voicemail again.

He started walking back to the bistro and hit dial again. It rang. And rang.

Kurt heard something as he started to walk passed the alley.

_... your hands on me_

_In my skin-tight jeans_

_Be your teenage dream tonight_

Blaine's ringtone. Kurt faced the direction the song came from – the alley. The alley was dim, nearly dark but for a small spot of light from a cellphone ringing by a shadowed lump. He walked towards the light, and the lump, before the lump's figure revealed a body. A person. With dark curly hair.

"No. No, no, nononono, no!" Kurt collapsed to his knees by the body – _Blaine!_ – and placed his hand on his head. He looked around, head whipping back and forth taking in everything and nothing. Blaine's shirt – _My Alexander McQueen gold shirt that went missing a few days ago_ – was stained red through the center and dripped onto the ground.

Kurt looked into Blaine's hazel eyes – _The shirt made them glow that one day_. The were looking up at Kurt, yet they weren't focused either. They just, wavered between Kurt and nothing.

"No. You'll be okay, just, please. Everything's going to be okay." Tears began to leak from Kurt's eyes as he brushed his hand through Blaine's hair as his other clenched Blaine's nearest hand. Blaine's lips twitched.

"N…"

"Don't try to talk, Blaine. I'm here. Please, just, try to…"

"D…"

"… hold on. I'll go get help."

"D–"

Blaine's eyes stopped looking at Kurt. They stared at nothing. Kurt didn't let go of his hand.


End file.
